


Red Rose Obsession

by mashmash



Category: Monsta X (Band)
Genre: Angst, Drinking, Heavy Angst, Hoseok is a lost baby, Hyungwon Deserves Better, I'm Sorry, M/M, Minhyuk Deserves Better, Obsession, Recreational Drug Use, Unhealthy Relationships, Unrequited Love, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-15
Updated: 2018-07-15
Packaged: 2019-06-11 00:42:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15303669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mashmash/pseuds/mashmash
Summary: "You may have thorns, but I want you, red rose."Hyungwon is addicted to Hoseok, even when he pricks his rose like thorns into his skin. And Minhyuk is his last chance, before he drowns in crimson, painful petals.





	Red Rose Obsession

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, another spontaneous thing? What's wrong with me, I HAVE PLANS, I NEED TO WRITE THEM.  
> I just wanted to write something violent, this came up, I'm (kinda) sorry. Kinda.  
> Feel free to make me feel guilty as heck @mashirakos on twitter. 
> 
> Enjoy, as much as you can.
> 
> <3

Even the dim moonlight, casting a light blue hue on the dark, night sky is blinding for his glassy eyes, when he dares to look up and out of his window. The broken springs of his mattress are poking on his back, digging in the already bruised flesh just to make him aware that the patches are, indeed, there.

He rarely looks up; he saves this action just for _him_. He only wants to look up into his eyes, no matter what the dark brown orbs hide behind their warm streaks of color, no matter what expression he will end up staring at. These are menial thoughts, worthless. He shouldn’t be thinking like that. He should solely focus on the only thing that seems to matter, and that it will always continue to matter for him.

Hoseok always comes back; drunk, high, angry, dazed, tired. But he always comes back.

 

 

The ear splitting sound of skin against skin is echoing in the cramped apartment, trapped among cement and steel, wood and fabric. The worn out, lilac curtains flail weakly as flesh clad bones meet hardwood, a thud, followed by another. And another. Hands try to claw on his forearm, his thick, toned forearm, they try to hold on whatever they can grasp. They fail, continuously getting slapped away by rough, calloused, ring adorned fingers.

“Leave me alone, Hyungwon, I just want to leave, it’s sickening in here.”

The words cut like sharp knives and hurt Hyungwon more than the fall. He supports himself on the couch and the unsteady coffee table, its legs screeching as they slide on the floor. Wobbling, slender legs keep him up, palm on his hipbone, trying to cover the pain and pretend that the bruise won’t appear tomorrow. He walks towards the door, fingers reaching Hoseok’s desperately, craving to be interlaced, to find purchase between the spaces of his own. But Hoseok seems to be travelling miles with every small step of his, the door too far for Hyungwon’s frail hands to reach and lock. And when he’s finally there, Hoseok is already running down the stairs drunkenly, the stench of cheap weed and whiskey lingering on the threshold.

 

 

Perpetual knocking force Hyungwon’s eyelids to open abruptly and his bare feet are on the cold floor before his eyes adjust to the darkness and deal with the drowsy blur. A yawn slips from his chapped lips as he skips towards the apartment door, the knocks stopping only when the door is fully open. He knows who to expect; he always does. And he knows that strong arms will never wrap around his thin waist, even when his own curl around the neck of the man in front of him. But he can’t lose hope, because he’s back. Once again.

“I brought weed,” Hoseok’s husky voice resonates through the apartment, his shoes still on his feet when he plops on Hyungwon’s couch. He shoves his hand in his jeans’ pocket and brings out two loosely rolled blunts, paper all wrinkled up from the tight confinements he had them in. Hyungwon hesitantly walks towards him and sits on the edge of the couch (his brain is always telling him that he should have his legs on the ground when with Hoseok. He punishes himself for the fleeting lack of trust he has. It’s his fault.)

“You know that I don’t smoke, Hoseok, I’ve told you before. I don’t like the smell.”

Hoseok’s eyes squint with annoyance that makes Hyungwon’s toes curl. His toe nails graze on the floor and he flinches, fingers wrapping around his too long sleeves tighter. He gives him the blunt either way, extending his hand above Hyungwon’s lap, lighter in hand. Hyungwon looks up at him with almost pleading eyes, trying to silently persuade him to recoil, to let him have it his way for today. He will keep him company as he smokes, he won’t leave, even when the smoke burns his eyes and unbearably fills his lungs.

“I can’t smoke alone. You will smoke. Take it, Hyungwonnie.”

His resolve breaks when the nickname leaks out of Hoseok’s lips like Hyungwon’s favorite lyric from a song. He pressures his unwilling lips to part and Hoseok pushes the filter between them, a bright, brief flame lighting it up before Hyungwon’s mouth gets engulfed by smoke. His system protests, a cough after another when he tries to breathe the dark cloud in. But Hoseok’s glare works like a goddamn switch; every nerve and reaction in Hyungwon’s body shutting down immediately when the irritated gleam in his eyes makes itself visible to Hyungwon.

They smoke in silence, exchanging small puffs of smoke that spread their way up to the ceiling, filling Hyungwon’s apartment with the familiar stench of weed that he utterly despises. But he lets himself believe in a lie. That he loves everything that is associated with Lee Hoseok; his smell, the whiskey he drinks, the cigarettes he smokes, the neglected rings he leaves down the bathtub’s drain, the sheet stains he doesn’t care to clean whenever he falls in bed with Hyungwon. And as he loves all these things, he equally _adores_ it when his lover flicks the burnt out butt in the ashtray on the coffee table, occupying his hands by grabbing Hyungwon’s arms and pushing him on his lap. He doesn’t care that Hyungwon hasn’t finished his joint yet, he doesn’t spare a glance when it’s still lit and it falls on the sensitive skin of his thigh. The flesh burns under the orange, trickling, burning paper but Hoseok’s hands are on his body and that’s what matters. His lips muffle Hyungwon’s pained whines and his fingers reach to press the butt deeper on his lover’s skin until the paper burning disappears.

The only burn that stays behind is the one caused by Hoseok’s rough touches on Hyungwon’s skin under his shirt, and Hyungwon thinks that he couldn’t have it any other way.

 

 

“ _Where are you?”_

Hyungwon can sense the impatience through the speaker, as he browses through different kinds of pasta. His eyes glimmer when they fall on the spaghetti he has been craving for months; but his hand reaches for the instant ramen. If he’s on a budget, he would rather buy Hoseok’s favorite.

_“I’m at the grocery store, baby, I bought ramen for y-“_

_“I’m home. Come. Now.”_

The screen of his phone lights up against his ear and Hoseok’s voice can no longer be heard, the lack of it rendering Hyungwon’s heartbeat erratic. The shopping list in his hand gets a crinkled, balled mess and falls on the tiles as he slides his cart as fast as he can towards the cashier. The pretty, red haired boy flashes him a worried smile, a lift of his mouth’s corners that Hyungwon only witnesses whenever his friend tries to express any kind of displeasure, fear or, in this case, worry.

“Only the ramen, please.”

“Hyungwon. You can’t live off ramen all the time. Take the other stuff as well.”

“I’m not the one who eats them, Minhyuk, charge the goddamn ramen.”

Minhyuk’s eyes are stuck on his friend’s lanky frame, the buttons of his shirt buttoned up wrongly.

“You can’t keep doing this.”

“You’re stalling the line.”

“There’s no one behind you, it’s fin-“

“You’re stalling _me._ ”

He can’t help the anguished expression that spreads all over his face in seconds, eyes glistening with a sadness that always surfaces whenever the name Chae Hyungwon is mentioned. It wasn’t like that, it never was. Deep inside him he wants to slap this impostor and bring _the_ Chae Hyungwon back; his friend with a contagious smile who would always fight for whatever had him wronged. And that smile is nowhere to be found, before Minhyuk puts all the groceries in bags even though Hyungwon never paid for them, the cart filling again with all its previous contents clad in flimsy plastic.

“Take them. I’ll write them down in your tab. Eat a good meal from me.”

And the smile that act earns him as Hyungwon rolls his cart out of the grocery store, keeps his fading hopes up. Maybe, just _maybe,_ his friend isn’t completely dead yet.

 

 

Hyungwon feels like he is pierced by one thousand needles, their tiny ends pricking on his pale skin, leaving drops of thick, red blood oozing out; but he likes to think of this as holding a rose. Crimson, mesmerizing petals blooming one next to the other and acute, green thorns boring into his palm. But he is holding something beautiful, attractive. As he is holding on Hoseok when his rings are hard against his hipbones and his nails are engraving deep, purple crescents on his sides, him thrusting into Hyungwon as if it’s the last time he will ever have the chance to do so. It hurts, but it hurts so well. Or maybe, that’s what Hyungwon compels himself to think, because Hoseok is attractive, like a rose. Like a fully blossomed rose, ethereal and sublime, it aches when you touch it but you can’t do anything else but cherish it. And Hyungwon cherishes Hoseok with all his heart.

“Stay, please Hoseok, leave in the morning,” his voice is hoarse and lower than a whisper, maybe that’s why it doesn’t reach Hoseok’s ears. He wants to yell but he has sucked all the air out of his lungs. Hoseok sits with his back turned to Hyungwon, sheets on his lap, red trails all over his chest and arms. His marble, statuesque skin is painted red, and a proud warmth pools inside Hyungwon’s chest. At least he left a mark. He plucked a petal out of the rose, and now it’s his. He smokes his last cigarette to the end and throws the end out of the open window, standing up, letting the sheets fall on the floor and leave him bare. His feet stick on the ground as he walks, goosebumps on his skin from the gush of wind sneaking from the holes of the blinds. The moonshine makes him glimmer; white light on white flesh being blinding to Hyungwon, he squints his eyes as he tries to steal a glance.

“I won’t. It’s cold.”

He gets dressed, white, wrinkly shirt and too distressed jeans on, what he remembers him wearing two nights ago. What he doesn’t remember is the red stain on the collar. He blames the darkness as his mind forgets all about it.

“I’ll close the window, you can get back into bed. Stay.”

“It’s _cold,_ Hyungwon. I won’t.”

And he leaves like that, letting the wind close the door behind him and blow away any hints of his presence.

 

 

“Hey, hey, hold on, what’s wrong?”

Minhyuk is too taken aback when he feels his friend’s lanky figure fall on his undoubtedly too weak for that shoulders and chest. He steps back and holds him as steadily as he can, cupping his forehead when he is sure that Hyungwon won’t collapse on the floor. His face is burning. Minhyuk’s mind goes everywhere it shouldn’t.

“Hyungwon, are you okay? It’s 4 am, how did you even come here?”

“Took…taxi. Hoseok wouldn’t give me a ride. He…”

Minhyuk kicks the door closed and wraps Hyungwon’s arm around his shoulders, trying his best to move him to the bedroom, failing and settling for the living room instead. He sets him on the couch carefully, Hyungwon’s body plopping on the puffy pillows like a marionette with no one to hold its strings and bring him to life. He tries to take Minhyuk’s hand in his, intertwining their fingers as his friend is sitting next to him, on the armrest, caressing the back of his palm.

“He what? Are you hurt?”

Hyungwon gulps audibly and his insides clench. Hoseok would never hurt him without a reason. There must have been a reason, right?

“I’m…I have a fever,” Hyungwon stops mid-sentence to cough his lungs out. “I have a fever because I didn’t close the windows. It was cold. He said it was but I couldn’t get up, and he left, and…”

“Slow down, Hyungwon, what was cold? Why did he leave you when you have a fever?”

“He came again, but I couldn’t…I wanted to sleep. He didn’t.”

Now it’s Minhyuk’s turn to gulp down the knot caught in his throat. He doesn’t want to hear the rest, his heart is falling beneath his ribcage, it skips beats abnormally.

“He tried…he wanted to love me, he touched me, and I wanted to, Minhyuk, I _wanted_ to love him back, and I _tried,_ right? But I couldn’t move. It burns. My head hurts.”

Minhyuk is shivering. He can’t keep his worry inside him anymore, it slips out and takes over his features. He slides on the bedraggled leather of his couch and settles next to Hyungwon, arms curling around his waist. He feels the man jolting when his bones probe on his sides and he immediately loosens his embrace, guilt overflowing inside him. He knows he’s not the one at fault for this; but he also knows he can’t speak up, even though he wants to yell about it like nothing else.

“And what did he-“

“It’s my fault. I couldn’t move, I couldn’t love him back. He did well.”

“Hyungwon, it’s not your fault. None of this shit is. What did he do to you?”

Silence. Hyungwon can’t seem to answer to that, but his suddenly ragged and heavy breathing reveals everything to Minhyuk’s shrewd brain and eagle eyes. He knows his friend better than anyone. He loves him more than anything in existence. And his fingers ball into fists, confining all his feelings inside them.

Hyungwon shakes his head, as if denying everything that he knows Minhyuk has in his mind, purely in denial. In vain, because Minhyuk can’t possibly buy that.

“You should leave, Wonnie. You should leave that house. Don’t go back. You’re sick and…he is more.”

“Hoseok isn’t sick, Minhyuk, he isn’t! Don’t talk about things you don’t know about. It’s my fault and I deserved it. How can I be good for him like that? Pathetic.”

His nails threaten to open wounds on the inside of his palm and Minhyuk weakens his grip before he raises his hands, cupping Hyungwon’s face softly, limbs trembling.

“You’re nothing like that. He doesn’t deserve your love. He doesn’t. He wouldn’t hit you if he did, Hyungwon, he would hold you like this. Like I do.”

He has the ephemeral urge to kiss his friend until his once beaming smile comes back, he wants to hug his pieces back together, to keep him there until everything is back to normal. Until his mind has forgotten everything about the man he is madly obsessed with.

(He can’t even think about the term _in love_ when it comes to that anymore. It gets his stomach turning.)

But he doesn’t do it. He just brings Hyungwon’s forehead on his, eyes closing and voice breaking as he speaks.

“I may not know about you and him, but I know you deserve more. Please listen to me, Wonnie, I love you.”

Hyungwon keeps shaking his head, the sweaty and burning skin of his forehead rubbing against Minhyuk’s bangs, making them frizz. Minhyuk feels drops running on his digits, leaving a wet trail on his knuckles before falling between their legs. His thumbs swipe them up before his mind can process it and he can’t help but glance over Hyungwon’s full lips. He swears at himself for desiring things like _kissing_ at a time like this.

“I don’t want him to leave me but I keep leaving him, Minhyuk, I left him today as well. I am the one who doesn’t deserve him. Can you hear what I’m saying? I should go back. Now. I left him alone. He must be feeling lonely.”

The corners of his mouth lift up ever so slightly and he can taste salt on his tongue, his lips wet.

“He must be waiting for me. He misses me, Minhyuk, a lot. He keeps coming back, you know.”

Words slap Minhyuk in the face; or slap his hands away from his friend’s face, because they suddenly lose all the strength they possessed. He barely feels them falling on his lap, and his brain only just catches on the slight jolt of his body, the pillows coming back in place signifying the absence of someone sitting on them, evanescently denting them.

“Don’t leave me.”

But he is too late because his pleading is overthrown by his front door’s closing thud.

 

 

The small kitchen carpet is still damp, he can feel it against his cheek. It’s getting the tips of his hair wet and they stick on his forehead. He should cut them shorter, but Hoseok likes them long, his fingers clutching on them just right when he brings Hyungwon’s lips on his. The thought makes him want to smile, but he doesn’t have control over his body. The only thing still working is his brain, and it keeps playing the last hour’s events on an irritating loop, every second of it a dagger denting Hyungwon’s skull.

 

 

_“Why did you leave?”_

_Hoseok’s firm voice is making him stop in his tracks, his hand gripping the doorknob with a newfound strength he didn’t know his feverish, bruised body still had inside of it. He steps in carefully, his guard up even though he only wants to give in to Hoseok’s power and being. He instinctively takes a small step back when his eye catches Hoseok shifting against the kitchen counter, just fixing his lump position. His fingers are hooked underneath the marble surface, and Hyungwon remembers that he hasn’t cleaned there in months. He is about to notify him about it when Hoseok talks over him._

_“Why aren’t you talking? I asked you something, Hyungwonnie.”_

_He expects his nerves to ease up with the mention of his name in this manner, but his stupid body keeps tensing up more and more as he closes the apartment door shut and walks painfully slow towards his kitchen. His feet stop when he reaches the table, and that’s when he finds the will to answer, when his hands curl around the back of one of the chairs._

_“I went to buy medicine.”_

_He doesn’t know why he is lying. Is going to his best friend a sin? It shouldn’t be, but it feels like it is. Hoseok scoffs, but it comes out breathy._

_“And where are they?”_

_His empty hands betray his obvious lie. He should have tried harder. He notices Hoseok’s fingers tightening their hold, he shifts his weight from his one leg to the other, shoes squeaking against the tiles._

_“Tell me the truth, Hyungwonnie. Why did you leave me alone?”_

_Hyungwon tries to walk closer, he feels the need to hold Hoseok’s hand in his. His lover will get him. He will forgive him. As he forgives everything._

_“I was out, at Minhyuk’s. I wanted to see him.”_

_The way Hoseok backs off the counter and paces towards him fills every cell of his with unsullied fear. He should feel love. But it’s nowhere to be found. He grabs his wrist (the wrist that was tied some days ago with rope too harsh that it cut inside his skin more than Hyungwon would ever withstand as Hoseok was fucking him raw inside the mattress) and pulls him with a swift, too harsh for comfort motion against his built frame. His other hand claws on his side, battered skin trying to combat the touch with a surge of pain running all over Hyungwon’s body. He jolts; but Hoseok keeps him still._

_“Lee Minhyuk again? I told you to not meet him anymore.”_

_“But he is my frien-“_

_“He wants to take you away from me, Hyungwonnie! He hates me, don’t you know it already?”_

_Hoseok sighs and he tries to restrain himself, to keep everything in; but something tells Hyungwon that this is pure deception. He shakes his head, the thought that Minhyuk is right, that he should leave this house immediately pushed to the back of his mind quicker than the blink of an eye. He trusts Hoseok with his life. Right?_

_“He doesn’t hate you. He is just…he doesn’t know anything. Hoseok, he trusts me. I love you, so he trusts me with that. He is my friend. I wouldn’t leave you for anyone.”_

_“But you left me.”_

_Hyungwon’s eyes widen. His words come forward, the ones he spat when he was over at Minhyuk’s not a while ago. “Pathetic”. His legs give up, he doesn’t even know how these flimsy, stick like legs held him standing all this time. They tremble, and Hyungwon is on the floor, wrist still clasped by Hoseok, his other hand trying to cling on a hole on his jeans. Hoseok looks down and if Hyungwon didn’t know him, he would dare to say that he looks disgusted._

_“I didn’t leave you. I came back. I came back quickly, didn’t I? I’m here, baby, forgive me, please!”_

_“Stand up.”_

_Hyungwon grips tighter when he doesn’t hear what he wants to hear._

_“Forgive me first.”_

_“How can I do that when you leave me, Hyungwon? When you’re like the others?”_

_His wrist gets tossed on his lap, jeans rubbing on his now open, bloody wound, leaving red stains. He looks up, eyes begging._

_“I am not like the others. I have stayed by your side all these months, has anybody done that? For that long?”_

_Hoseok is now the one who shakes his head, he can’t deny that. He can’t deny the unadulterated truth, can he? Hyungwon stayed, no matter what. But people don’t change._

_“You’re like the others. You may not have left, but you will. You will, Hyungwon.”_

_He steps on Hyungwon’s limbs as he walks past him, emerged thoughts and memories have him pacing in despair. Hyungwon’s calf hurts, but watching Hoseok being in pain hurts more somehow. He crawls towards him, trying to stop him, but a leg on his stomach stills him. If he wanted to let out a whine, his sealed lips and his teeth drawing blood from the inside of his cheek kept it in._

_“Why are you doing this? Why, when you’re going to ditch me? Don’t love me if you’re going to be like this. I don’t deserve it, damn it!”_

_He lands another kick on the curled mass of limbs on the floor out of frustration, this time the tip of his shoe hitting his side. This time he cries out, the impact transferring to his chest, making him cough. He curses under his breath for his useless legs. He would be able to support Hoseok better, if he could support himself. Useless. Lifting his hand to reach what he can of Hoseok is the only thing he can do, and he hates it. Hoseok laughs._

_“I don’t deserve people like you. Feigning love. You only like the way I fuck you, do you? And the weed I bring. You even make me guilty when you say that you don’t smoke, but you end up smoking it all. Fucking greed, that’s all you have.”_

_He crouches, trying to be eye level high with who he thought was his lover, with Hyungwon, who will end up hurting him all over again, when he was about to get healed._

_“I’m the one who will leave you alone, for a change.”_

_He points at himself with vigor, emphasizing his words, before slapping Hyungwon hard, his head smashing on the tile and landing on the rug he has set in front of the sink. Everything feels hazy, blurry, heavy. He can only see Hoseok’s feet bringing him closer to the door, his last steps in this apartment echoing loudly now that silence has taken over. The last thing Hyungwon hears is the damn door closing, like it would every time Hoseok would say he is sickening, every time he would leave him behind alone and come back afterwards._

For as long his eyes and mind are open, his brain tells him that his won’t happen again. Hoseok will never step again in this apartment. And as his lids strip him from his ability to see, closing torturously slow and shutting down along with his conscience, a weird feeling of relief takes over his body, and his last thought is that maybe, just maybe, Minhyuk was right after all.


End file.
